Far from tree-mendous

No, you’re not looking at a tree that’s somehow grown hands. Those hands are mine. What was I doing behind the tree in question? Listen up - I’ll tell you the whole sad story.

After my three most recent blog entries, my sister Nadine pounded her fists on my bedroom door.

‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice?’ she screamed through the wood of the door.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I protested back through the very same door.

Nadine was having none of it. She stormed into my room and snarled: ‘Were you so stupid as to think I wouldn’t see those insults you wrote about me in that pathetic blog of yours with the rubbish photos?’

Evidently, I had thought she wouldn’t see them. But equally as evidently, she’d found me out. Seems you can’t get away with anything on the internet these days.

It soon became clear that Nadine wasn’t alone. The angry grunts behind her came from those band mates of hers in Dental Treatment.

‘Sonny Jim, you’re coming with us,’ growled the drummer. In normal circumstances I would have corrected him and protested that my name was Ben. But something about his features told me that this wouldn’t have gone down well.

Against my will, I was escorted (dragged kicking and screaming more like) to the park down the road. As punishment for my slander, they tied me to a tree and abandoned me there, but not before snapping this photo of me.

Crying out for help only brought sniggers or looks of embarrassment from hurrying passers-by. Eventually my pleas were heard by a good Samaritan in the form of Myrtle from the year below me at school. She loosened my bonds on the condition that I present her with a variety pack of Monster Munch the next time I bump into her. It would be worth every penny.

On my return, there was a yellow sticky note plonked on the screen of my laptop. Big bold handwriting demanded: ‘There’s a picture in your inbox – bung it on your blog or we’ll tie you up in town.’

Well, that’s my sorry story and here’s the promised picture. I hope you’re happy, Nadine.

PS. In true ‘Da Vinci Code’ style, there might just be a hidden message in this blog.

PPS. The first letter of each paragraph. That’s all I’m saying.

Noise annoys

Last week, I wrote about my sister, Nadine, and the band she’s in called Dental Treatment. I’ve only seen them perform a couple of times, and it’s a couple of times too many, believe me!

The last time I saw them was at the Boardwalk in town. I happened to take my camera with me, and I’m glad I did ‘cause I got this snap of the support act.

Dental Treatment is what you would call a heavy metal band (though I’m tempted to call them something else!), so you might find it surprising that their warm-up artist was an accordion player.

Well, Dental Treatment found it surprising as well! They hadn’t booked a support act. They were just about to walk on stage when up popped this person who led the audience in two rousing verses of ‘We all live in a yellow submarine’.

Turns out it was a bloke called Kevin, an estate agent by day but a female impersonator by night. Kevin specialises in gatecrashing gigs and pub concerts and marching up to the stage to steal all the limelight.

But the staff of the Boardwalk were having none of it. Just seconds after this picture was taken, two burly bouncers got Kevin in a headlock, escorted him to the stage door, and chucked him out onto the pavement. The wailing his accordion made when he landed on it was ear-piercing.

But it still wasn’t as bad as the concert that followed. My ears are still ringing…

Sandwich short of a picnic

Sorry about the blurry photo. I took it from the window of the car while Dad was driving.

It’s a sandwich shop, in case you hadn’t figured it out. But I didn’t take the photo ‘cause I’m a big fan of sandwiches … although I do like the occasional cheese and marmalade on a bit of brown bread.

No, I took it because the name reminded me of my annoying older sister, Nadine.

She’s not a big fan of sandwiches either, she’s not short and she doesn’t go for picnics. But put all those words together – ‘sandwich short of a picnic’ – and you’ve summed her up perfectly.

I blame it on her headphones. She’s always listening to music full blast in her room. It can’t do her brain any good.

She’s also in a band. Dental Treatment they call themselves. I reckon it’s ‘cause listening to them is more painful than having your teeth done.

Nadine doesn’t like me, but that’s okay because I don’t like her either.

That’s more than enough about Nadine. Next time I’ll write about something more cheerful, like swine flu or piles.